Page 84 of Fake Married to the Grumps

Cindy sits back, her expression unreadable. "Hmm, if you say so. But you know how Bryce can be. He's got a bit of a reputation."

I bristle at her words, feeling a surge of defensiveness rise within me. "Bryce is a good guy. He's just misunderstood."

Cindy lets out a sigh, her tone tinged with concern. "You need to be careful. He's not exactly known for his stellar track recordwith women. You know about Bryce's rebellious past, right? He was always getting into trouble, skipping classes, and shutting everyone out. I remember Mom and Dad constantly arguing about his behavior and how it would affect his future."

I appreciate the fact that she's looking out for me, but I can take care of myself. Besides, Bryce isn't a vicious animal. "I appreciate your concern, but Bryce isn't like that. He's just ... complicated."

I remember back to that secret spot in the hidden garden, where Bryce's earnest eyes locked on mine as he shared his deepest dreams and fears. In that moment, I saw a side of him that no one else did—a vulnerability and depth that belied his rebellious exterior.

Cindy gives me a pointed look, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Complicated, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?"

I roll my eyes, feeling a twinge of frustration at her insinuation. "Yes, Cindy, complicated. Can we please drop it?"

Cindy sighs, relenting at my exasperated tone. "Fine, fine. But just promise me you'll be careful around him, okay? I don't want to see you get hurt."

I nod solemnly, grateful for her concern despite my insistence that everything is fine. "I promise I'll be careful. Besides, he's got a good heart, despite what everyone else thinks."

Cindy snorts, rolling her eyes in disbelief. "Yeah, right. And I'm the Queen of England," she mutters under her breath.

"I'm serious, Cindy," I deadpan, and she raises her hands in surrender.

There's more to my feelings for him than I'm willing to admit, even to myself. But I would rather die than let it out again.

Not after that stinging rejection that left my heart in shreds.

Chapter 10

Bryce

The neon lights of the bowling alley cast a vibrant glow across the lanes. I need a break after this week, and celebrating Chris's birthday here seems like the perfect way to unwind.

"Bryce, my man! Glad you could make it," Chris calls out, his voice carrying over the sound of pins crashing.

I grin, joining him at our designated lane. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, man. Happy birthday, buddy."

He picks up a bowling ball, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Cheers, mate. Another year older, another year wiser, right?"

I chuckle. "Or in our case, another year closer to retirement."

Chris laughs, the sound mingling with the upbeat music playing in the background. "Speak for yourself, Bryce. I plan on acting until they have to wheel me onto the set."

"I thought you were considering a career change? Something about opening a surf shop in Bali?"

He shrugs."Eh, just a pipe dream. Besides, where else am I gonna find a gig that pays as well as this?"

I nod in agreement, reaching for my bowling ball as I glance around the alley. The usual cast of characters fills the space—families enjoying a night out, groups of friends laughing and joking, and everything in between. It's a familiar scene, one that never fails to remind me of the simple joys in life, away from the fickle nature of fame and fortune.

It's why I cherish moments like these, spending time with a close friend and enjoying a slice of normalcy. In the midst of the chaos that often surrounds me, these brief respites are a welcome change of pace.

While preparing to take my turn, we're interrupted by the arrival of two girls who approach us with an air of confidence that borders on arrogance.

"Hey there, handsome," one of them purrs, batting her eyelashes in my direction. "Mind if we join you?"

I glance at Chris, exchanging a knowing look as we brace ourselves for the inevitable onslaught of flirtatious repartee.It's a scenario we've both grown accustomed to—the constant barrage of attention from eager admirers who see us as nothing more than objects of desire.

But tonight is different. I don’t know why, but I’m not really interested in the girls’ advances.

"I'm sorry, ladies, but we're in the middle of a conversation," I reply, my tone firm but polite.

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